Whether it's breathing in the magic of the theatre, marvelling at the artistry of the performers, or simply enjoying the thrill of a well-deserved night out, there is undeniably something unforgettable about an evening spent at the ballet.

We encouraged our Twitter followers to indulge in a moment of nostalgia and tell us about their first experiences of the ballet — be it live on the Covent Garden stage, or further afield — and we were not disappointed:

Try to describe Wikipedia to someone who’s never heard of it and they won’t believe you. A free encyclopedia to which anyone can contribute, which is actually useful? But you’ve never likely to have that conversation anyway; with more than 6 billion page views a month, Wikipedia is the fifth most popular website – and an amazing resource for the sharing of knowledge on a global scale.

Wikipedia is a work in progress, and dance is one of the areas that needs improvement. At the Royal Opera House we’re passionate about sharing ballet and opera with the world – and Wikipedia is one of the most far-reaching ways to do that. That’s why we’ve teamed up with Wikimedia UK to host a number of ‘editathons’ – focussed sessions to improve particular articles. In our previous editathons – on Ashton and MacMillan – we opened the invitation to everyone. But this time we turned our attention to the ROH Student Ambassadors.

The ROH Student Ambassadors are selected from the ROH Students scheme to be passionate advocates for the work of the Royal Opera House within their respective universities. They’re creative, confident and share our love for opera and ballet. We invited them to an evening performance of Swan Lake, and in the afternoon set them to work on editing Wikipedia on a subject of their choice. Joining us were experienced Wikipedians Tim Riley and Jonathan Cardy, who provided invaluable insight into the ins and outs of editing.

The Ambassadors made tremendous improvements to a wide range of articles. Some chose to focus on Swan Lake, and worked on the pages of original choreographer Lev Ivanov, producer of The Royal Ballet’s production Anthony Dowell, and dancers Jonathan Cope and Derek Rencher, who created roles in the premiere of Dowell’s 1987 production.

Others began work on the huge task of improving John Cranko’s status on Wikipedia, whose minimal presence in the encyclopedia does not reflect his significance in 20th-century ballet. They improved his article, and created an entry for Onegin, one of Cranko’s most popular ballets.

Alicia Horsted, ROH Student Ambassador at the Open University, said ‘As a Wikipedia user I really appreciate the articles that are available, so to be able to add or create something to help other people who would like an insight into a potential interest, or further the knowledge of die-hard fans, is absolutely brilliant. I found the experience addictive and it really captured my attention (which is hard for someone who is fidgety and easily distracted!). I can't wait to continue the work I began in the editathon’.

Steven Cuell from Oxford University ‘spent the day researching the life and work of Lev Ivanov, whose work (and Wikipedia page!) is often forgotten under the shadow of Marius Petipa. It was exciting and rewarding to spend a day sharing knowledge that will, in its own little way, make information more accurate and accessible for ballet lovers everywhere’.

Kathleen Greene from the London College of Music said ‘Wikipedia is such a helpful resource to many that being part of the editathon made me feel like I was contributing to something hugely important. And as a bonus, it was all to do with the arts! A great experience definitely worth trying’.

Jonathan from Wikipedia summarized: 'It was lovely to be able to work with such a lovely bright bunch of people!'

Tutus, tiaras, pirouettes and pas de deux – that’s what ballerinas are made of. Or are they? Alongside the fairies, princesses and girlish heroines stand another group of women who defy the mould. Encompassing parts that range from protective mothers to powerful sorceresses, these so-called ‘character roles’ make use of acting and mime in addition to dance. And they’re often as vital to the drama of a narrative ballet as that decorated leading lady.

At The Royal Ballet, most character roles are undertaken by Character Artists. These dancers tend to have performed with the Company for several years and risen through the ranks. They therefore bring to their roles an understanding of the movement and characterization inherent to classical ballet – Genesia Rosato, one of the Company’s current Principal Character Artists, explains that performing character parts is ‘just an extension of what we have been taught classically’. However, without the technical framework of a fully danced role to fall back on, these performers must go beyond choreographed steps to create convincing personas – they must, as Rosato explains, have ‘a natural feeling for acting’.

Dancers with a flair for acting and mime in fact often take on character parts relatively early in their careers, watching and learning from those who have experience of performing the roles. This tradition is particularly strong within The Royal Ballet; Rosato describes how she was ‘taught in my early days in the Company by Julia Farron, Gerd Larsen and Derek Rencher, who nurtured my dramatic tendencies’. Fellow Principal Character Artist Elizabeth McGorian remembers her training in mime with Anthony Dowell – ‘a stickler for detail but never afraid to update it or experiment with it’ – and Peter Wright, ‘who knows everything there is to know about classical mime and is such a perfectionist’.

Christina Arestis – a current Royal Ballet Soloist who performs both dance and character parts – draws on her training to immerse herself in a particular role: ‘Monica Mason once said to me, the most important thing when approaching any role is first to consider how that particular character would walk. That is always my starting point. Once you have established that, you can start to build the layers of your character from there.’

Of the many choreographers who include character roles in their narrative ballets, Kenneth MacMillan is particularly revered for the imaginative, complex personalities he created. For McGorian, ‘MacMillan was the master. Character roles were such an intrinsic part of all his story ballets and he was groundbreaking with the way he made the storytelling so naturalistic’. She names Lady Capulet from MacMillan’s Romeo and Juliet as her favourite role, ‘not least because of the heartbreaking, gut-wrenching reaction she has to her nephew Tybalt’s death… the build up to that scene and performing it leave me emotionally and physically shattered’.

The female character artist’s repertory includes a number of other powerful mother figures: Berthe in Giselle and the Princess in Swan Lake are each complex characters, caring for their children but powerless to avert disaster. Though less prominent, the dignified presence of Madame Larina in Onegin provides valuable background detail for the behaviour of her two very different daughters. But character artists are by no means restricted to depictions of maternal love. The plethora of women they portray range from glamorous, independent figures such as Madame in Manon to the demented, knife-wielding young cook in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. They can be some of ballets most famous baddies – the wicked fairy godmother Carabosse in The Sleeping Beauty and the witch Madge in La Sylphide.

None of these characters conform to the stereotype of a ballerina. But without them, and the skilled dance-actors who bring them to life, ballet’s most famous stories could not be told.

‘Pushkin wrote so many great things, and to combine this amazing story and put it on stage to ballet is something very special’, says Royal Ballet Principal Vadim Muntagirov of John Cranko’s Onegin.

The ballet, a captivating interpretation of Pushkin’s verse-novel set to music by Tchaikovsky, opened with The Royal Ballet on 24 January. Vadim, who joined the Company in 2014, is currently performing the role of Lensky.

‘As Lensky, you really need to show love and the story. You have to be a real artist and not just a ballet dancer. You have loving moments and dramatic moments, and I really like the contrast’.

Royal Ballet Artist Matthew Ball, who joined the Company in the 2013/14 Season, is also performing as Lensky, his first Principal role with The Royal Ballet.

‘Lensky is quite provincial’, he says. ‘He hasn’t seen the big city or the real world, and is completely in love with Olga, who he believes is everything to his life. His character completely juxtaposes that of Onegin, who is older and disenchanted with life’.

Over the past few weeks, we have filmed with a selection of Royal Ballet dancers to find out more about the characters of Onegin and Tatiana. View our Onegin playlist:

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‘Onegin is everything a principal dancer wants to do,’ says Royal Ballet Principal Thiago Soares. ‘There are technical demands, and a dramatic journey with a narrative. You can really forget yourself and become that character.’

John Cranko’s Onegin, which had its world premiere with Stuttgart Ballet in 1965, is an emotionally-charged re-telling of Pushkin’s novel-in-verse. It explores the turbulent relationship of the dashing Eugene Onegin and the bookish Tatiana.

‘My favourite moment is in the last act when Tatiana admits she still loves Onegin but won’t allow him to destroy her. His rejection is the most emotional moment of the ballet,’ says Royal Ballet First Soloist Valeri Hristov. ‘I have previously performed as Lensky, which is very demanding, but the role of Onegin is much wider - more emotional and physical. It is the complete challenge in ballet.’

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The production is given with generous philanthropic support from Simon and Virginia Robertson, David Hancock, Lady Jarvis, Lindsay and Sarah Tomlinson, Sir Roger and Lady Carr, The Artists' Circle and The Royal Opera House Endowment Fund.

‘Eugene Onegin is one of the treasures of Russia,’ says Royal Ballet Principal Natalia Osipova of a work taught in schools across her vast native country, ‘but we only truly begin to understand it when we grow up’.

‘The character of Tatiana means a lot to me. It’s a very interesting role for a ballerina to play, especially for me as a Russian. While I’ve been preparing for the role, I’ve constantly referred to the book. Every rehearsal makes me rethink and improve my character.’

Onegin tells the story of a bookish country girl who falls in love with a mysterious stranger, Eugene Onegin. Her heart is broken however, when he coldly rejects her. They meet again years later in a ballroom in St. Petersburg, their lives irreversibly changed through jealousy and regret.

‘There are fabulous duets,’ says Natalia of John Cranko’s energetic and emotive choreography. ‘They’re so unbelievably sensuous, so unbelievably beautiful and merely rehearsing them brings great pleasure. It’s a dream for any ballerina.’

The production is given with generous philanthropic support from Simon and Virginia Robertson, David Hancock, Lady Jarvis, Lindsay and Sarah Tomlinson, Sir Roger and Lady Carr, The Artists' Circle and The Royal Opera House Endowment Fund.

The production is given with generous philanthropic support from Simon and Virginia Robertson, David Hancock, Lady Jarvis, Lindsay and Sarah Tomlinson, Sir Roger and Lady Carr, The Artists' Circle and The Royal Opera House Endowment Fund.

Within the repertory of The Royal Ballet, John Cranko is by far and away best known for Onegin. Admittedly it's one of his finest works, a captivating retelling of Pushkin's social tragedy. But there's far more to Cranko than just one ballet.

John Cranko was born in Rustenberg, South Africa, in 1927. He began his training there but in 1945 moved to London to study with Ninette de Valois at Sadler's Wells Ballet School (now The Royal Ballet School). Almost as soon as he arrived he was invited to join Sadler's Wells Theatre Ballet (now Birmingham Royal Ballet), to plug the gaps left in their male dancer ranks by World War II. De Valois also encouraged him to choreograph, continuing the interest he'd developed in South Africa.

In 1947 Cranko was transferred to Sadler's Wells Ballet (now The Royal Ballet), the resident company at Covent Garden. Here he worked with Leonid Massine, Frederick Ashton and Robert Helpmann – Massine in particular would be a strong influence on his choreography. But after only three years with the Company Cranko retired as a dancer to accept the position as resident choreographer of Sadler's Wells Theatre Ballet.

Soon after he enjoyed a major popular success with Pineapple Poll (1951), an English seaside comedy with music by Arthur Sullivan arranged by Charles Mackerras. Here Merle Park dances the ebullient title role, in choreography that displays Cranko's inspired incorporation of English traditional dances:

Cranko was now well into his stride. The next few years saw a range of major works across a range of genres – a diversity of taste and inspiration that was to become a hallmark with Cranko. For Sadler's Wells Theatre Ballet he made the whimsical romance The Lady and the Fool (1954); for Paris Opera Ballet he made the Offenbach-inspired La Belle Hélène (1955); and from Sadler's Wells Ballet came his most important commission yet, The Prince of the Pagodas (1957), a new full-length ballet with a newly created score by Benjamin Britten.

In 1958 Cranko was invited to stage a new version of Prokofiev's ballet Romeo and Juliet for La Scala Ballet, Milan. Seven years before Kenneth MacMillan created his version, Cranko invested his Romeo and Juliet with a distinctive realism – often taking his lead from Shakespeare, rather than the Russian choreographers whose versions had until then predominated. Cranko restaged the ballet with Stuttgart Ballet in 1962; here Marcia Haydée and Richard Cragun, two Stuttgart dancers who would be key in Cranko’s career, dance the Bedroom pas de deux:

In 1960 Cranko was invited to stage The Prince of the Pagodas in Stuttgart – and by January 1961 he had been appointed ballet director of the Württemberg State Theatres, Stuttgart. That Stuttgart Ballet is now one of Europe’s leading dance companies is thanks in large part to Cranko’s directorship. He trained a leading group of dancers (Haydée, Cragun, Ray Barra and Egon Madsen among them), supported visiting choreographers (particularly MacMillan, who created Song of the Earth for Stuttgart), those from within the ranks (including Jiří Kylián and John Neumeier) and established Germany’s first ballet boarding school, choreographing all the while.

Unable to afford many guest choreographers, Cranko was obliged further to develop his versatility as a choreographer. His Stuttgart works encompass a breathtaking array of genres; but clearly closest to his heart were his full-length narrative works – among them Onegin (1965), The Taming of the Shrew (1969) and Carmen (1971). Many of these works have been taken into the repertories of companies around the world.

Cranko died in 1973 aged 45, after complications from a sleeping pill on a flight from Philadelphia to Stuttgart. His sudden death shocked the ballet world; one of the most heartfelt expressions of loss came from MacMillan, who created the exquisite Requiem in memory of Cranko. Today, Cranko's legacy lives on still – through Stuttgart Ballet and the John Cranko Ballet School, through the works of choreographers he supported, and in his own ballets.

The production is given with generous philanthropic support fromSimon and Virginia Robertson, David Hancock, Lady Jarvis, Lindsay and Sarah Tomlinson, The Artists' Circle and The Royal Opera House Endowment Fund.

Alexander Pushkin’s verse novel Eugene Onegin is anything but an ideal subject for a dramatic, operatic or choreographic adaptation. Apart from the metric structure of the writing, the events are related by an anonymous narrator, who takes constant care to provide the reader with an often amazingly detailed wealth of information. In other words, Pushkin’s work is not just an engagingly tragic story, but also a richly woven and somehow complex psychological portrayal of characters living, like the author himself, in an era of change.

Choreographer John Cranko had a unique talent in dealing with the seamless and theatrically effective juxtaposition of pure storytelling and the psychological portrayal of the various characters. In his 1965 ballet Onegin, such juxtaposition reaches high levels thanks to a constant use of choreographic and dramatic shadings that allow the viewer to appreciate in full the relationship between the inner microcosms of each character and the twists of their everyday reality.

Every single character in the ballet expresses himself or herself through a powerful language of dramatic gestures. And yet none of these movements stems from the well-established tradition of what is normally referred to as ‘ballet mime’. Nor are these gestures too literal, even though they remain readable, immediate and accessible throughout the whole work.

Look at the way Onegin repeatedly ‘encircles’ Tatiana with his arms in the final duet. It is not a common, everyday movement, nor does it stem from any theatre-related convention. It is primarily a choreographic gesture, created in line with the steps and the dynamics of the dancing it complements. And yet that repeated motion speaks volumes about Onegin’s final attempt to rekindle Tatiana’s lost love. It is a gesture that combines remorse, passionate desire and reverential, almost religious respect for the now unattainable object of his desire.

Similarly, the arm that Lensky extends towards the sky while performing the brief trio with Olga and Tatiana in the duel scene is an instantly readable gesture, though not a strictly conventional or literal one. The contrasting dynamics of the movements performed by the two women – keeping close to each side of the man – turn that theatrically effective movement, albeit disarmingly simple and brief, into a highly expressive one. It is both an invocation of a superior entity, begging for mercy, and the typical expression of sorrow, despair and rebellion against fate typical of those who sense an impending tragedy.

A few minutes earlier, Lensky’s breathtaking solo has transmitted the young man’s doubts, fears and sadness through a number of similar gestural devices. The right hand rests gently either at the forehead or at the heart while the dancer balances with a leg fully extended backwards: this is synonymous with the lyrical nature of the young man, a would-be poet living in a world made mostly of dreams and extreme passions. The gesture, in its two variants, makes an immediate reference to both the tragic thoughts (the forehead) and the strong emotions (the heart) that underscore Lensky’s turmoil.

It would be wrong to credit Cranko with the ‘invention’ of these theatrically effective movements. Innovative as they may be within the context of the 1965 ballet, they are simply an ingenious adaptation of similarly expressive, non-conventional and non-literal gestures that had already been explored by a number of British-based choreographers. But there is little doubt that, together with a unique sense of dance-making that allowed Cranko to delve further into the inner depths of his own characters, that language of gesture soon became one of the distinctive traits of his art and one of the most significant innovations of modern ballet. As such, it stands as a splendid reminder that ballet, after all, is theatre, and not just meaningless steps.

This is an extract from Giannandrea Poesio’s article ‘Gestures that Speak’ in The Royal Ballet’s programme book, available during performances and from the ROH Shop.

The production is given with generous philanthropic support from Simon and Virginia Robertson, David Hancock, Lady Jarvis, Lindsay and Sarah Tomlinson, The Artists’ Circle and The Royal Opera House Endowment Fund.